


Not Yet

by seven (sevenpoints)



Category: Snowpiercer (2013)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 23:24:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2002038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenpoints/pseuds/seven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curtis didn't deserve Edgar's devotion. He didn't deserve Gilliam's support. He didn't deserve the way that Tammy looked to him, the way everyone looked to him, for guidance, for strength. </p>
<p>Most of all, though, he didn't deserve Grey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Yet

It was just another reason to hate himself. 

Curtis didn't deserve Edgar's devotion. He didn't deserve Gilliam's support. He didn't deserve the way that Tammy looked to him, the way everyone looked to him, for guidance, for strength. 

Most of all, though, he didn't deserve Grey.

"You know you don't have to do this, right?"

Grey nodded, and pressed his face to Curtis' neck, making Curtis want to cry at the honest affection. He could, if he really wanted to. They were back against the bulkhead at the very rear of the train where the car rattled the loudest, as far as they could get from the bunks. It was what passed for night in a sunless world, and this was the closest any of them had gotten to privacy in sixteen years. 

"You don't--I'm not--this isn't something you should do because you think I'm some kind of leader, okay? You don't owe me anything. No one owes me anything."

Grey pulled back to look at him and pointed at Curtis. Then, with the same finger, he traced letters on his chest: _N, E, E, D_.

"You don't need me."

Grey shook his head, annoyed, and pointed at Curtis more emphatically before reiterating: _N, E, E, D_.

"I need?" Grey nodded. "That's not a good enough reason--"

Grey waved his words away and pointed at himself, tracing letters on his own chest: _G, I, V, E_. He smiled, frown lines reconfiguring into laugh lines. _E, N, J, O, Y_.

"I need, you give, you enjoy." 

Grey nodded again, looking relieved that Curtis was finally catching up. He leaned in close again and slid open the first few buttons of Curtis' shirt to trace letters directly on his skin.

_T, I, G, H, T,_ he spelled, leaving Curtis’ throat dry. _W, A, R, M_. A few more buttons and then his tongue on Curtis' ear, running gently up the shell. _H, A, R, D_.

"God, yes," Curtis gasped.

There wasn’t time for niceties, but Grey never seemed to understand that. He took all the time he wanted pulling Curtis’ clothes open, dragging his pants down and all the way off when Curtis would have left them bunched around his knees to fuck against the wall. It felt so strange every time they did this; Curtis lived in his clothes so much they felt as much a part of him as his hair or his beard. Stripping them away left him raw and over-sensitive, which was probably what Grey wanted. Grey, who wore his own clothes so lightly that it was perfectly natural for him to bare his skin, dropping the track pants that barely clung to his narrow hips. The tattoos spread, stark and secretive at the same time. Curtis could barely remember a time when they weren’t there. If he was honest, he didn’t want to remember the time when they weren’t there.

A hand stroked up his cock, distracting him from trying to make out the characters on Grey’s collarbone. He felt lips curve against his own neck.

“Yeah, I’m hard. I want it hard, come on Grey, please.”

Grey's giant coat was thick and forgiving under Curtis' hands and knees. It wasn't all that warm, but Grey barely needed it; his body always ran hot, blood singing through his veins and bringing a glow to his skin that reminded Curtis of other things he didn't want to remember, like golden afternoon light, slanting through trees and casting deep shadows. 

He dug his fingers in and rolled his hips back, keeping himself in the present, and Grey's greasy fingers pressed in knuckle-deep. Take some protein, mash it up, boil it, and let it cool. After a day or so, skim the rendered fat off the top and send the mess left behind to be consumed by the healthier among them, the ones who could withstand one or two low-calorie meals.

Some of the fat they used to dress wounds, or keep the bunks from squeaking.

Some of it they’d used to cover Grey’s raw tattoos.

Some of it they used to fuck. 

Really, it wasn't surprising that so many of them were happy to skip meals.

"I'm ready," Curtis muttered, even though he wasn't. "I'm ready, just fuck me."

Grey breathed out a voiceless _pfffffffffffffft_ , and kept fingering him. His other hand reached around, grazing Curtis' cock ever so lightly before continuing up to find his nipple, circling it, flicking it, teasing it up into a hard point and making Curtis bite back whimpers and roll his hips. Grey was always so good to him, so happy to make him pant and swallow his moans. When Curtis first went to him, he'd wanted his violence, a fuck as unforgiving as a knife. He was totally unprepared for gentleness, the way that Grey targeted the places that bled (his neck, his wrists, the long lines up the sides of his thighs) and the places that hurt ( his lips, balls, the clusters of nerves down the length of his spine) and made them hum with teasing touches and scraping bites until Curtis was sweating, too worked up to even remember the cold.

"Grey," he groaned, shuddering at the tongue flicking the tiny dent just above the crease of his ass. His cock throbbed, heavy between his thighs. "Please. _I need_."

Letters, high on the curve of his ass. Curtis struggled to focus on the shapes. _W, A, I, T_.

“Someone’s gonna wake up!”

A third finger stretched him open very deliberately.

_R, E, L, A, X_.

He tried, but all he could think about was how this was too good for him. Grey’s rough hands massaging the insides of his thighs were too good for him. Grey’s full lips on the back of his neck, moving slow and sweet enough that he could feel the catches of tiny scars, was too good for him. 

Grey pushing him over onto his back so he could settle between his thighs and catch Curtis in a kiss was way, way too good for him. Surely someone was going to come along and take it all away.

He opened his mouth to say as much, then bit his lip when Grey shifted his hips and slid inside.

Getting fucked simplified things, or at least it certainly simplified Curtis. With Grey moving inside him he couldn't think of much at all beyond the driving force of it rocking through him, bringing his body to life. In the tail they got so bombarded with sounds and smells and faces and the grimy grease of a space with too many bodies and too little soap until they were deadened to it all, senses switched off out of self-preservation. With Grey though Curtis wanted it all, the dig of blunt nails, the sting of sharp teeth and the sweet, smooth strength of a cock inside him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Grey's lips and tongue worked over his body, like he wasn't filthy, or maybe like he was, but only in the best way.

He wanted to be good for Grey so he whispered, " _Yes_ ," rolling his hips up, letting the train rock them together. Sometimes when the tracks were rough he'd look up to see Grey dangling from the ceiling, eyes shut, letting the train sway him back and forth until it was like he and the train were still, and it was the rest of them who were crashing around them. That was what it always felt like when Grey fucked him, like Grey could transform him into a fixed point, like the train couldn't hurt him because he was the train, moving ever forward, unstoppable. 

Above him Grey shuddered, only too human. Little gasping catches of breath hissed against Curtis' ear, almost-groans and almost-whimpers that told him Grey was close. "Not yet," he whispered, making Grey rumble against him, a silent snarl. He gripped Grey's hips and held him still, shaking. "Not yet, please, don't come yet."

Grey retaliated by hooking his hands under Curtis' knees and bending him in half so he could press in deep, thrusting in small motions that nevertheless rocked Curtis to the core and, " _Okay_ , okay, yes, fuck, make me come, Grey, please" and then Grey was stroking his cock, swiping his palm up over the head to sting across his slit and make him keen as his orgasm burst out of him, feeling white hot and vibrant and painfully, painfully alive. 

Grey stroked him through it, pressing kisses against Curtis' neck and cheekbones and rubbing his lips raw against his beard. When Curtis finally came back to his senses he shuddered, realizing Grey was still hard inside him. Grey gave him a new more breaths before he was moving again, hips snapping in sharp, insistent thrusts so different from the smooth strokes he used to get Curtis off. These thrusts were for no one's pleasure but his own and Curtis loved this too, loved letting his whole body go soft and taking it, for as long as Grey wanted, until Grey finally flooded his ass with come. 

Afterward, he was the one to wipe them both clean with one of the rags that passed for washcloths in the tail. He dragged Grey's track pants back up his long legs, trailing kisses as he went, and pulled Grey's coat up over his shoulders, quick before the chill chased away the afterglow. 

He didn’t deserve Grey or Edgar or any of them but on the train they had nothing but time so maybe, one day, he would.

 

 

+++

Grey watched Curtis drag himself up to his bunk, and waited for the glimmers that were Edgar’s eyes flicking open before returning to Gilliam.

“You gave him what he needed?”

Grey nodded, sadly. Spelled: _N, O, T, R , E, A, D, Y_.

“No, not yet. That’s why you’re so important, Grey. You keep us all safe until Curtis is ready to step forward.”

Grey shook his head and tapped his chest own chest emphatically. _N, O, T, R , E, A, D, Y_.

Gilliam smiled and raised his hand to rub Grey’s hair roughly before cupping his cheek. “It’s all right. We still have time left, and what we have we’ll spend together.”

Neither of them said anything about future, after the uprising. Grey pressed his lips to Gilliam’s palm, less of a kiss and more the way people try to crush the parts of them that hurt the most.

_S, Y, O, T, O, S_. It was their private “goodnight.”

“Yes,” Gilliam replied. “See You On The Other Side.”

**Author's Note:**

> It was going to end and then my masochistic streak demanded an after the credits scene.
> 
> Like does someone want to write a coffee shop AU or something? Because I’m pretty sure this is the saddest canon ever. I’ve literally been reading Les Miserables fic when I need a fluffy break from Snowpiercer.


End file.
